A Call to Darkness - Michael Jan Friedman [51]
“Computer-what time is it?”
A velvety female voice delivered the response: “Oh-eight-hundred hours, thirty-two minutes.”
Great. He’d far exceeded the time he’d had in mind. Apparently, he’d forgotten to program his wake-up call.
Riker yawned-just as another memory popped to the surface, bobbed there insistently. Was that a beeping he’d heard before? Was that what had woken him up-or had he only dreamed it?
Then it went off again-indisputably real this time-and reflex took over. Flipping the blanket aside, he swiveled around and stood up, mother-naked. Immediately, the coolness of his cabin-a preference that went back to his Alaskan upbringing-shivered him the rest of the way to wakefulness.
“Lights,” he called out, and blinked against the sudden illumination. As his eyes adjusted, he padded across the floor, got his robe out of the closet and wrapped the thing around him.
What could it be? he wondered. Something wrong with the ship? All they needed now was a malfunction-as if they didn’t have enough problems.
And why had someone come in person? Wouldn’t it have been quicker to raise him on the intercom?
Of course, if it was bad news… No one liked to communicate that over a monitor. Was that it? Bad news about the captain-and the others?
Shrugging off a growing sense of dread, Riker called out again: “Come.” Then wondered a little at his choice of words. Wasn’t that Picard’s line?
The door slid aside and Data entered from the corridor. He had a portable hologram generator tucked under one arm.
“What is it?” asked the first officer. “What’s wrong?”
Data cocked his head and looked at him. “Wrong?” he echoed.
“Wrong,” said Riker, realizing with a flood of relief that his worst fears had been unfounded. “I mean, you must have had a reason for waking me-didn’t you?”
The android seemed to notice the human’s mode of dress for the first time. “Oh. I see. I have interrupted your slumber. I did not realize.” He frowned ever so slightly. “It is just that I thought you would want to see this immediately.”
Sometimes Riker wanted to shake him. This was one of those times.
“See what, Data?”
The android indicated an empty table between two chairs. “May I?” he asked.
“Yes. Of course. Go ahead.”
“Thank you.”
Crossing the cabin, Data placed the hologram generator on the table. Then he pulled out one of the chairs and sat down.
Riker deposited himself in the other one, watched as the android activated the device and established a link with ship’s computer. Once that was done, a couple of taps on the undersized keyboard was all it took to call up an image.
And what an image it was.
A battle scene straight out of Earth’s Middle Ages. Maces and double-headed axes, swords and suits of body armor. Brutal, violent-yet for all of that, somehow compelling.
It was only then that he noticed that the image was two-dimensional. He had been so intent on the subject matter, he’d completely overlooked its format.
He looked up at Data. “Where did you get this? And what is it?”
“In accordance with your orders,” said the android, “we have been monitoring all broadcast communications on A’klah. This is one of the images we recorded. As for what it represents…” His voice trailed off uncharacteristically. “At first, I speculated that the images were computer-simulations- perhaps of historical events, which would have explained the use of primitive weapons and tactics. Then I used our scanners to monitor activity in the areas where the broadcasts originated. It soon became apparent that they were transmissions of real events-as they were happening.”
The scene shifted to the battlements of a stone fortress. There was no fighting hereonly a sense of vigilance. But once again, all the figures depicted wore full suits of armor.
“It then occurred to me,” said Data, “that these broadcasts might be journalistic in nature.